Forever Rain
by Feather
Summary: Angst///I wrote this as an angst piece and some of my speculations on Hermione ~ Feather =^-^=


Title- Forever Rain

Category-Harry Potter

Genre-Angst

Pairings-implications of Cho/Harry

Main Character-Hermione (she's so cool!)

Author's notes-I know that this has no point whatsoever, but I wrote a little bit of poetry and thought that I could use it for a Hermione fic. All I really want to do with this fic is further speculate Hermoine's thoughts on general topics from an angst outlook. That's about it…*ponders* Yep, that's about it. Thank you, love you all! ~ Feather =^.^=

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She's trying so hard to unwind,

And all her pain just keeps coming back.

She's trying so hard to believe, to believe,

But these memories make her cry at night.

She's just trying so hard to be good.

But she can't be all that she wants to.

And now,

She's down on her knees and she's praying again.

Gathering her bath things, Hermione slipped into a pair of loose slippers, and put her soap, brush, hair rinse, and pyjamas in a drawstring bag. Silently with the tense grace of a cat, she whispered through the deserted common room. The moon was bright and whole, and it's gentle light filtered through the thin veil of snowflakes into the empty room from the higher windows. Though the light looked so smooth and gentle and beckoned her with subtle apprehension, it caused the furniture to look too ghastly and pale for comfort. Passing through the portrait hole, she looked back at the empty common room, the empty chairs, the light of the passing moon.

It was after hours, but as a prefect, it was not difficult for her to talk her way out of trouble. With a harsh discipline, Percy himself would have been proud of her law-abiding ways. But what had it brought her, besides the gradual loss of heart, loss of passion, loss of friendship? Despite her constant explanations to Ron and Harry, they had slowly drifted out of her reach, like most all things these days.

As much as she tried at nights not to cry over the loss of her friends, all the constant pressures of her advance courses, all the high expectations for her to succeed, the harsh agony of seeing Harry laugh with Ron and without her, she couldn't turn her thoughts to but anything else to save her. She would dream sometimes about their first years, how they had tried to solve such mysteries as lovely as a picture book, yet far more deadly and far too real. She was oh, so tired, and could not think of anything, anything that could turn her mind from thoughts of how she was happy once.

She tried sometimes to blame it on her studies. She had taken up the Time-turner once more, and all the long hours of repetition and trying to remember all her classes had slowly but surely disrupted the balance she had tried to create so she could keep her friends and her studies. 

It started, at least she thought, when she had missed a Quiddich game. She had fallen asleep in the library while trying to finish her History of Magic essay, Charms homework, Muggle Studies reading, Arithmacy rune chart, and Astronomy calendar. She probably could have finished it all, she reckoned later, by using the Time-turner, but strongly set in her ethical beliefs, the notion hadn't entered her mind until weeks later when she had eight exams to study for. When she had awoken in the library at half past eight, kindly but firmly by Madam Pince, in a startled moment she blurted out a frenzied comment about a Quiddich game. Later she learned that Gryffindor had narrowly won to Slytherin, and that only top performance by Harry had saved their chance at the House Cup.

Hermione walked silently down the hall, until she reached the entrance to the Prefects' bathroom. Muttering the password in a small voice, she pressed her hands lightly on the door and slipped through a narrow crack. The glorious marble tub was empty of all activity, but as tempting as a bath sounded, Hermione walked around the pool and into an empty shower stall.

She let her shower robe fall to the floor and slowly untied her pyjama fastenings. She looked at her appearance in one of the many mirrors, and was startled by how thin and frail her naked body looked. Her skin was so pale and her vertebrae stood out when she turned to hang her bedclothes out of the water's reach. She turned the knob with a ghastly gesture, her movements soft and pale as a haunting spirit's.

Though the water was magicked to always be warm, with a simple chilling spell Hermione let the cool water pour over her tired limbs. She held up her hands, her long thin fingers, and ran them slowly along her jaw. Startled by their coolness, she pulled them back. _My hands...they're so cold...just like the rest of me._ Rubbing the back of her neck with interwound fingers, she tilted her down so the water could wash along her back.

__

Why is this water, the rest of me so cold? she thought aloud to the stone shower walls. _Am I trying to drown out all the emotion that I once felt? For...Harry? _She stopped abruptly. _That part of you died so long ago, Hermione_, she thought. _I thought I knew who I was, and so did he, but we were both wrong, for once. I...love my studies, and I can't love anyone other than that. Fact is truth, and emotion is weakness, isn't that what you used to tell yourself? Oh, if you thought you could learn all those spells and win all those credits did you think you would win his heart? Did you think you could impress him? What were you thinking when you first lost your emotion, Hermione?_

Idly, she reached into her drawstring bag and drew out her lavender soap. The lovely scent echoed off the walls as she toyed with it between her fingers and traced patterns with the suds. _And you don't want to think about it, do you, Hermione? You don't want to think that you made a mistake when you chose to give up your heart. You know it tears you up everyday to see Harry walking and talking with Cho. You used to think it was a passing phase, and you could win him over if you didn't tell him, but it wasn't and you lost. That's why you did it, isn't it Hermione? That's why you drifted away so far into your studies that you couldn't ever be drawn back out, that's why you lost the only people who made you feel like you were worth something. And now, as soon as you realize this, you can't ever go back to the way it was, you silly, silly girl._ Hermione put the soap back into her bag.

She tilted her head back so that the cold water fell across her face, the water so much like raindrops mixing in with her tears. _And now you're crying about it. As though it could make things better. You should know better than to ever have tried to win his heart, because now it wouldn't have hurt so much. _The water dampened her hair so it fell in uneven sheets to the middle of her back, and she ran her fingers through it before reaching for her brush.

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If only I could find that part of me that believed that I could ever love. If only, if only, that's what mockingbirds cry, those are only songs, Hermione. If you could ever get your head out of the clouds then you would know that you are only falling deeper into an illusion. But no...she stopped, as a part of her again remembered something that with a bitter heart she had overlooked before. _No! That was too long ago, oh stop trying to live in the past Hermione! It was only one kiss, one simple kiss. But oh, Hermione, try not to remember the way he looked at you like he could never love another, the way his eyes were so serious and intense, try not to remember the sweetness of both of yours naïveté, because it will only break your heart more._

Hermione reached again into her bag for her hair rinse, and slowly felt a pool of the liquid peppermint and almond extracts gather in the palm of her hand. Lathering it through all the lengths of her tedious hair, she again tilted back her head, and let the water rinse out all the soap. _Oh Hermione, what are you trying to do to yourself? You're trying so hard to forget the past. You're trying so hard to unwind all those sorrows and vulnerabilities, trying to forget all the different layers that make you yourself. You're trying to lose yourself, Hermione, and you might lose your chance again? So it was only one kiss, but if you had let it grow into more, would you be happy now? So you were scared, Hermione, because you didn't want to lose him. But you lost him, Hermione, and when you missed that Quiddich game, oh, his eyes were so deep with sorrow and anger and confusion and vulnerability._

She put the hair rinse back into her bag. _And you let him go, let yourself go, and that one night was forgotten. That's why you don't want to go back to the common room, because it was so like tonight that it happened. And...because the night you let him go was like this too, when you slipped into his room, drew silently backed the curtains, and with your cools lips to his cheek, you let go of all your emotion, your life. Hermione, do you regret that now?_

She reached to turn of the water knob, but somehow turned it to warm again. And she started to cry silently, her body shaking from her oppressed sobs, and she sunk slowly down to her knees. Almost instinctively she drew her hands together underneath her chin. And she started to pray. _Dearest Lord, please get me through these dark times, please let me live another day, _live_ another day, and all my days, so that instead of passing through the time I have, let me make something of it. It is the winter times that make spring all the more beautiful, and until I find my wings, please help me to fly under yours until I can find myself. Amen._

Unsure of what to do next, she got up shakily and turned of the water. Patting away trails of water that traced down her body, she dried herself quickly. She slipped into her pyjamas, which were far to loose over her thin body. _I do remember to eat, right? _she thought uncertainly. Her life revolved around her studies now. She gathered up her bag, and exited the shower stalls to quickly walk back up to the common room with the one memory her salvation and sorrow, keeping her up too watch the moonlight filter through the veil of snowflakes until the moon set and the gray predawn light fell through the windows:

_"Hermione?" he asked uncertainly. "What am I supposed to do? I mean, I'm not sure that I believe in God, can believe in a God after what's happened too me."_

Hermione shook her head as an unearthly tranquility and total serenity fell over her face. "Do you know what my mother told me?" she asked him, her voice so soft and peaceful. "She told me when I was a little girl that God gave illness and sorrow to those he loved most, because he knew that they could bear it and triumph it. See, Harry?" She gently took his hand and drew him too the edge of the lake, and bent down on her knees, beckoning for him to do the same. 

And she started to pray, for courage, for sureness, for peace within herself. A lone bird flew over the lake as soon as she opened her eyes. Is this a sign? _she wondered to herself, _That I should fly along._ She closed her eyes again, dreading the growing apprehension on the fringes of her conscious, trying to avoid the feeling that had been deepening inside her soul for several days. She swiftly walked with Harry back up to the castle, trying not to look at the bird that flew alone. Later in the common room on that pale creamy night, he kissed her._

As she told him goodbye, as she let go of her emotions, the lone bird echoed through her mind.

But if she had watched only longer, she would have seen another bird join it.

*

Closing notes: All work was done conscious of other authors' works, so I would like to respect that. As far as I know, this is an original idea, but if it resembles another, it was not purposely done so. Have a lovely day! ~ Feather =^-^=

Disclaimers: I do not claim to own Harry Potter or any related works.


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